


Third Time's the Charm

by GwendolynGrace



Category: Alien Series
Genre: Alien3, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone important anyway, F/M, Fix-It, Found Family, Mild Gore, Mild Horror, Very questionable science fiction, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 23:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: Ripley, Hicks, and Newt wake up during the fire, and subsequently crash-land on Fury 161. But this time, they not taking any chances. After encountering xenomorphs twice already, Ripley is ready and able to destroy them with prejudice. And Hicks will be by her side the whole way. This is the conclusion to the trilogy that we all deserved.





	Third Time's the Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/gifts).



> For continuity purposes, I am not using any expanded universe, comics, novels, or other material. I acknowledge no Alien films except the first two. I barely accept Alien 3 and Alien Resurrection, and that's mostly just because A. Signourney Weaver looks awesome with a shaved head; and b. Winona Ryder is a BAMF. Okay, and that scene where the aliens are swimming is pretty cool. Anyway. Not sorry, but Covenant, Prometheus, even Alien v. Predator just do not exist in my world. (Though that said, I do dig the concept that Predators like them a bug hunt.)
> 
> Any errors are my own.

FLIGHT LOG: USS SULACO, JUNE 29, 2179, 22:08 hrs  
DROP-SHIP RETURNED FROM ACHERON SURFACE (HADLEY'S HOPE COLONY, LV-426)  
CRYOGENIC CONTAINMENT AREA PREPARED FOR USE  
RETURN COURSE PLOTTED: GATEWAY STATION

Ripley closed the lid on Newt's cryochamber, but something nagged at her. Ever since the _Nostromo_ , she got nervous climbing in to the stasis machines. Who could blame her, after losing 57 years floating around in space, the last time? She knew she should trust the tech, yet she hesitated to flip the switch on her own pod. Well. She felt about a million times better after their showers. She judged she had enough energy to conduct a thorough inspection of the cryo compartment before taking her nap. 

She really wished she could take a fine-toothed comb to the whole ship. But honestly, the _Sulaco_ was huge. And the queen xenomorph had only been on board for a few minutes, between stowing away on the shuttle's hull and getting sucked out the airlock. Maybe she ought to check the shuttle and shuttle bay, just to be sure. 

Bishop was bagged up and ready for analysis when they got home. Hicks--Dwayne, she reminded herself--was definitely out of commission at least for a while. She really wished she had some backup, but searching alone was better than not searching at all. Sighing, she donned a coverall and exited the cryogenic area. 

She grabbed a rifle from the armory on her way back to the shuttle bay. Once there, she turned up every light to full. Light didn't hurt the fuckers, but they sure didn't like it. And it would make her job that much easier, so fuck the fuel it would cost them. Or did they run on batteries? Well, who cared. Safety first, her foreman on Earth would say. 

There was no getting up in the rafters of the massive hangar bay, but then again, the queen hardly had any opportunity to get up there, either. Ripley headed for the shuttle. Jesus, the place was a mess. All the debris from the open airlock was strewn where it had stopped, littering up the deck. Even with the lights on, the area under the shuttle, and the recessed chambers where the landing gear was stored in flight, were shadowy and dark. She pulled a hand-held flash from a rack on the wall to shine a beam throughout all the nooks and crannies of the shuttle. It looked clear, so she headed up the ramp. The shuttle, too, seemed normal. She carefully ran her flash over all the rigging, places where a xenomorph could curl up like the one on _Nostromo_ had done. She opened access panels; looked up into the vents, and down into the subflooring. All in all, she spent about two hours checking everywhere she could think, before she was satisfied.

Feeling confident that the danger really was, finally, over, drained what little adrenaline had been keeping her going. Ripley shut off the lights and went back to cryo, though she did continue to check along the corridors and through the hatches of the ship on her way. Once back among the sleepers, she summoned a little more strength to give the chamber another once-over as well. 

She was just about to strip and set up her own pod when Hicks's registered a blip. The drugs must have altered his biorhythm just enough to throw off the pod's sensors; now that a few hours had passed and he was coming out of the painkillers' effects, his vitals were giving the pod fits. So Ripley keyed in the sequence to cancel cryostasis.

He moaned as he woke up. She opened the pod. "Hicks. Dwayne. Your eye is bandaged, remember; so don't try to open it just yet. How do you feel?"

"Green and frosty," he replied. "I'm a complete kiwi."

Ripley chuckled. "Are you saying you need a shave? Kinda like the scruffy look you've got going."

"Are we back on the base?" he asked.

"No, we've barely left," she told him. "Your pod wasn't happy about the meds in your system. Should be okay now that you've woken up. Want to lie down and try again?"

He sniffed. "Hey, you smell good." Slowly, he opened his one eye. "You clean up good, too, Ellen."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Tell you something, I don't think much of spending a couple months in cryo stinking like last week's mackerel," Hicks announced. "Think you could help me out?"

"What get you to the showers?" Ripley asked. Was he flirting? Was she teasing him back? It felt like being back in high school. She blamed the euphoria of escaping the nightmare a second time.

"Well, that or you...gimme a sponge bath," Hicks proposed. No, propositioned. He was defs flirting.

"Shower it is," Ripley decided. "C'mon, soldier."

She helped him climb out of the cryotube and supported him as they limped to the barracks. He peeled off what was left of his fatigues, grunting a little as his clothes detached from the places where they had fused to his skin courtesy his alien acid bath. The open sores bled a little. "That's good," Ripley told him. "Flush out the residue. I'll get antiseptic from the infirmary and put on fresh gauze before you sleep."

"Hey, Ripley...uh...could you, maybe wait out in the lockers while I get under the water? I'm still a little woozy."

"Woozy?" she repeated with a grin. "Okay. Sure." She took a seat on one of the benches. Hicks was a marine, so his shower lasted all of about three minutes, during which time Ripley heard him turn the water on and off twice. "Efficient," she observed. Back on _Nostromo_ , they'd had to take what folks used to call "submarine showers" but no one was nearly as militant about it as they probably should have been. Dwayne Hicks seemed like the kind of guy who excelled at discipline and adaptability. He sure as fuck was competent.

"So, tell me something, Dwayne," she said, helping him to the infirmary, "how come an able young man like yourself is still only a Corporal?"

He laughed. "Shucks, ma'am," he drawled in an imitation old South Texas accent, that Ripley didn't buy for a second. "I'm just an ordinary grunt puttin' in a day's work for a day's pay. You know the company's saying: See the Universe, Meet Interesting Beings...and Kill Them. That's all I want out of life, not an officers' commission."

"Bullshit," she concluded, laughing. "When we get home I'm gonna recommend they make you chairman of the fucking joint chiefs."

He shook his head. Effectively closing the subject, he pointed to the bandages on his leg. "All done?" 

"You are free to go," she confirmed. 

He swung his legs off the table, but caught her arms to bring her close. "You know...there's something else I like to do before taking a long sleep."

His hair was still damp from the shower and he smelled like soap and spice. She leaned down, cupping his face toward hers, and felt his breath a second before she closed her mouth on his.

She came away coughing. "Brush your teeth?" she half-suggested, half-requested. "You're cute, Dwayne, but your breath is almost as much of a moodkill as a facehugger."

He laughed. "Sorry," he said, not offended. "Didn't really think about it planetside."

"We should have thought of it back in the barracks." Ripley rummaged through the medical bay and came up with the single-use ampules of fluoride. The capsules were made for on-the-go dental care. Each contained a paste that foamed up inside the mouth when you bit down. The foam mixed with saliva and diluted into a rinse which could be spat, gargled, or even swallowed if necessary. Even though she had brushed her teeth while making Newt do so, too, Ripley helped herself to an ampule in solidarity before offering one to Hicks.

The result made their next few minutes much more enjoyable. How convenient that they were in a place with beds, Ripley thought, as she and Hicks began removing what little clothing they were planning to wear in cryo. At this rate, they would need another shower, too.

Hicks was as competent at fucking as he was at military ops. Admittedly, it had been a long time since Ripley'd even wanted to masturbate, let alone make love with any partner that did not have batteries, but in her opinion, sex with Hicks was possibly more fun than even her favorite vibe had been. Though she did miss that thing--it was long gone, from a time Before the xenomorphs. Despite the rumors on _Nostromo_ , she and Dallas had been strictly professional. Then after her first trip to LV-426, the mere thought of even self-pleasure left her feeling sick and anxious. She'd just given up; she had bigger problems than orgasm. Which meant, really, the last time she'd been with anyone was probably…. "Wow," she said aloud, calculating. 

"Yeah, you're telling me," Hicks said with a grin. "You're pretty great yourself."

Ripley smiled and kissed him, electing not to deflate his ego. She had actually been thinking of Vijay, and the fact that he was either dead or about 100 years old by now. 

Hicks cuddled her close, stroking the back of one hand over her breast. "This is nice," he murmured against her neck. "It's a shame we can't fit two in a cryopod. I would love to drift for the next few months if I could do it next to you."

If that was a line, Ripley thought, then it was a damn good one. But the mention of the pod soured her stomach. "It's a shame we can't just stay here the whole way home," she grumbled. "I kinda like having the place to ourselves."

"Yeah." Hicks snuggled closer, his head against hers. She felt him relaxing and for a moment, thought perhaps he was going to fall asleep after all. But a few minutes later, his brain came back online, and he drew a deeper breath. "Well. I guess we should get back. If I don't get in that pod soon, I think I'm gonna need to dose up again."

"Right." She paused, not moving and not letting him up. "If you want, I could stay up a while longer and let you get some pharmaceutical-assisted rest."

"Nah. I'll heal up just fine in cryo, and once I'm out, I won't care about the pain." He pulled away. "C'mon, Ellen. The sooner we chamber up, the sooner we'll wake up at home."

"Where's home?" she asked, seizing on a chance to keep the conversation going.

"Uh, Chicago, when I'm not on base. You?"

She winced. If he lived in real atmo, he was definitely more than a simple grunt. "The company set me up in an apartment on Gateway Station. It's...sufficient."

"Maybe you can get a bigger place. I mean, if you're gonna keep Newt. You're gonna, right?"

Ripley bit her lips, suddenly fighting tears. "I haven't even thought that far ahead. The last time I tried to get home in one of these things, it took about 60 years. But, I guess if we do make it--"

"When," Hicks interjected.

"When we make it," Ripley amended, "I'll have to find out if she has any living family."

"I think she'd be better off with you," he said sincerely. "Someone who understands what she's been through."

"Yeah," Ripley agreed, voice cracking. "Maybe."

Even with one eye covered, Hicks's expression conveyed kindness and consideration. "She already calls you mommy," he pointed out softly.

Ripley tried to say she knew, but couldn't trust her voice, so she just nodded. Her eyes burned with tears threatening to spill over. To his immense credit, Hicks didn't speak, either. He mirrored her nod, then swung off of the exam bed, so she could have a minute to pull it together.

"Well, it's something to dream on, I guess," he said after pulling his shorts on. "C'mon, pod me up. I'm ready." When he turned, he must have seen the tension still on her face, because he continued: "Are you okay? Hey, it'll work out, with Newt."

"Sure it will," she said, skeptical but glad for his optimism. She was also glad to move on from the topic, though. "I'm fine. Like I said, these cryo pods just make me nervous anymore."

"Oh. I get it." He looked away sheepishly. "Well, uh, if you want, we could maybe take shifts. You know, you set my berth for a week and then when I wake up I'll keep an eye over you for the next week."

She laughed. "You really are sweet, Dwayne Hicks."

"Yeah, don't tell anyone," he said with a lop-sided grin.

"Don't worry, I won't. But you know the pods don't work that way. They're not designed for quick jumps, putting someone under and bringing them out like that. No, I'll just have to trust the machines. And the autopilot."

"Wish I could offer an alternative," Hicks replied.

"I appreciate it." Just knowing he and Newt were waiting alongside her would have to be enough. She liked that he did not assume he would be in the picture, that he gave her some space to absorb what they'd just survived, but that he managed somehow to be supportive and accept whatever she was willing to give. 

She reset the controls on his bed, kissed him again one last time, and closed the lid. He waved once before the stasis field overcame him and he went limp. Once she was sure the pod was running properly, she programmed it to start the wake cycle in case of further danger. Then she set her own chamber with the same precautions and climbed inside.

* * *

FLIGHT LOG: USS SULACO, JULY 2, 2179, 09:45 hrs  
EMERGENCY ALERT: EXPLOSION DETECTED  
DAMAGE REPORT: SERVICE PANELS 5,7,9,11 HULL BREACH  
FIRE ACTIVE IN CRYOGENIC CONTAINMENT AREA  
SPRINKLER SYSTEM MALFUNCTION  
EXECUTING EMERGENCY WAKE CYCLE PROTOCOL

The next thing she became aware of was the cryo containment klaxons blaring, and her pod's overrides all going off. Groggily, she hit the button to lift her cover. Instantly, she could feel the heat and smell the smoke. Flames burned under one of the consoles. She stumbled to the wall where the fire extinguishers were installed. Grabbing one tank, she rushed through the steps to spray suppressant over the fire.

Once the flames were out, Ripley called up _Sulaco_ 's systems on the remaining console, to check the whole ship for any other damage. She did not care at all for what she saw. The fire had not started here in cryo: back behind the ships port FTL thrusters, a whole panel had been blown out. The malfunction had dropped them out of hyperspace. In several places, she could see that the failsafe blast doors had shut to prevent any further loss of pressure, but the wiring must have had a short that found its way to cryo before hitting enough oxygen to catch. They were lucky the whole cryo containment module had not jettisoned them while they slept. As a precaution, the module was itself one giant EEV, but if the safety protocols had prompted an ejection, the fire would likely have kept on burning as they were evacuated--and it might have overridden the wake-up cycle as a further "feature" to prevent the crew being accidentally exposed to vacuum. They'd have crisped in their sleep.

Speaking of which, she checked again on Newt's pod. Hers and Hicks' had both been intact, but she'd had no time to look more closely in light of the emergency. The little girl was stirring. Her slowness to respond could have been due to her small size. The sensors were notoriously tricky when it came to non-standard occupants. Newt had probably been slightly overdosed, even though Ripley'd estimated her weight to titrate the stasis cocktail for her. Anyway, she was okay, and on her way to being alert.

Hicks's pod was open. Had it been open when she woke up? She was already fuzzy on that. She thought not, but then where was he? She called his name. A second later, he appeared in the camera just outside the room; the doors opened and he came in, carrying a second fire extinguisher. His head was still bandaged, and he still limped, but his color was a lot better than it had been when they'd escaped Hadley's Hope.

"Hey. Sorry if I scared you. You were busy putting out this fire inside, so I thought I'd take a look around in case there was more outside."

"I didn't hear you, or see you on the video feeds," Ripley challenged, cold with suspicion.

"You were pretty focused on the fire. I did tell you I was going. It's okay. Like I said, I could see you had things covered in here." He finally took note of her expression. "Hey, it's okay, Ellen. We're safe now." He put down the tank, holding out his hands in the universal gesture of appeasement. "We're okay. The ship's not infested. I haven't been attacked by one of those bugs. There's no bug on board. It was just an accident."

"Could have been sabotage," Ripley suggested. But he was right, now she thought of it his pod _hadn't_ been open when she woke up. She'd been groggy and in a hurry, but she had noticed that much. She could see the lights indicating the wake cycle, through the smoke and pink-tinged air. Maybe she was just being paranoid. On the other hand, her healthy sense of danger had kept her alive so far.

"I want to get home as much as you," Hicks assured her. "No reason for me to sabotage us and then let you undo it."

She had to admit that made sense. "Well, we may have stopped the fire," she told him warily, "but we're anything but safe." She showed him the damage report and the feed off the monitors, revealing the breached sections of the craft. "The bay doors automatically sealed us off from the blown areas," she explained, more to think it through aloud than because she needed her to interpret for him. "But the hyper's dead. We have no supplies and we can't get to the mess from here, there's a hole where we need to go. I think the EVA suits were in that section, too. Dwayne. We need to find a place to get to. Fast."

Hicks reached for a headset and took a seat at the console. "We're lucky this sector has two consoles," he muttered, "and that the fire didn't take out long-range scanning."

"Or navigation," she agreed.

"I'll look for a nearby system," he told her. "You want to pull up a seat and figure out how we can get there?"

"Aye-firmative," Ripley intoned, heavy with irony.

Six hours later, they had managed to plot a course for Alpha Fornacas, which Hicks said had a base that could accommodate the _Sulaco_. 

Newt had taken the news with her customary practicality. "Is there another monster?" she'd asked when she woke up.

"No, honey, but the ship's had a mishap," Ripley told her. "We're looking for a place to evacuate." 

Newt had merely shrugged and told Ripley she was hungry. Ripley rummaged around in the cupboards and drawers, hoping to find some kind of emergency rations, but there were none to be had. For the time being, they all had to stay hungry.

They were about two hours from the base, at sublight speed, when the ship lurched again, and an alarm sounded.

"Attention," the onboard computer announced in her unnaturally calm voice. "Life support system failure. Repeat: life support system failure. Diverting auxiliary power. All personnel, please obtain and don EVA suits, or proceed to an available EEV, immediately. All personnel, please obtain and don EVA suits, or proceed to an available EEV, immediately."

"Oh, shit," Hicks declared, pointing to the lights blinking off in the schematic. "It's global. The cryo section is in itself an EEV, and protocol keeps it as the last to lose power. But if it can't isolate the failure and stabilize life support within ten minutes, the ship will start decompressing section by section, in order to preserve aux and minimize its power drain."

"Shit," Ripley said. "We'd better change the pods to evac mode, and get this place ready to launch. Newt, c'mon, baby, get to your pod. We're evac'ing now."

Hicks tapped furiously at the keyboards and touchpads, but ultimately he shook his head. Grimly, he turned to Ripley. "Can't isolate it. Can't stop it draining. I don't understand why she's failing like this. First the blown panel, then the fire, now…."

"Don't you?" Ripley interrupted. "Maybe it's my curse. Sure you want to stick around?"

"I've done pretty good so far, sticking by you," he said without any jest.

Ripley swallowed. "Come on, let's run through the EEV sequence and get in our pods."

"You start. There should be an emergency EVA suit in here. I think I can access the armory."

"Dwayne, no, you can't. And there's no time. We'll just have to take our chances."

"Dammit. I knew we should have slept with ordnance in here."

"In a pod?" Ripley scoffed. "You really are crazy. You might even be as paranoid as me."

"Well, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you," he recited. "Fine, you win."

* * *

FLIGHT LOG: USS SULACO, JULY 3, 2179, 16:34 hrs  
BODENWERKE GEMEINSCHIFT TYPE 337 EEV SEPARATED  
NEAREST HABITABLE PLANET IDENTIFIED: FIORINA 'FURY' 161  
OUTER VEIL MINERAL ORE REFINERY  
MAXIMUM SECURITY WORK-CORRECTIONAL FACILITY  
COURSE PLOTTED

Eight minutes later, they splashed down in an ocean not far from shore. Almost as soon as they hit the water, Ripley was stabbing at the controls of her pod. The EEV had kept them alive through reentry, but if they did not abandon ship now, they would get pulled under and drown.

She released Newt's capsule, by which time Hicks was out of his and making his way toward the hatch.

"We need Bishop!" Ripley called.

"He's a synthetic," Hicks protested, "we can't afford any dead weight."

"He's got our only copies of the mission logs," Ripley snapped. She popped the lid.

"I need a hand with the manual release," Hicks requested urgently.

"Wait! We'll need to jump as soon as we get it open. Hang on." Ripley lurched over to a restraint harness. She strapped the bag with Bishop's top half into it and slung the whole thing over her shoulders. "Newt, keep to the side of the hatch. Be ready. Can you swim?"

"No," Newt said with fearfulness close to that she'd felt on the colony. 

"It's gonna be okay, honey, you can hang on to me," Hicks told her. "I'm a great swimmer. Used to win races." He winked with his one good eye.

Ripley took up position on the opposite side of the door, so that Hick and Newt were close together. The two of them opened the manual release valves. It took both hands to force the lever. When she got it all the way up, she moved with Hicks to the handle of the hatch.

"On three," he instructed.

Water rushed everywhere, cold and slightly slimy. She didn't want to think about what it might contain. Ripley waited until Hicks and Newt were clear, then she pushed off the deck into the open water. Bishop's torso and head pulled unevenly against her back, but she fought to stay upright. She kicked forward to get clear of the wreckage. 

Hicks, meanwhile, paddled in a tight circle. "Shoreline!' he announced. "About two kliks, four o'clock." With powerful, steady breast strokes, he led the way.

Ripley wished they'd had time to find life vests. The water was freezing and she was already tired, unused to this kind of exertion. Her muscles screamed with every stroke. She tried to keep her pace even like Hicks. Each time she took a breath, she was terrified of going under. But the tide was bringing them in, she realized, as each kick and pull of her arms seemed to carry them much closer to shore than she would have expected. Before they'd covered half the distance, Hicks slowed. "I think there's a shelf!" he cried in relief. "We should be able to walk in soon."

They also were no longer alone. Ripley could see figures racing toward them, past giant mining derricks and cranes that stood motionless, down the black, sandy dunes to the shore. Ripley pushed herself to keep going for the remaining strokes, until her foot found the sandy bar that Hicks had mentioned. She waded forward, grasping with her toes for purchase. Now she was fighting the surf instead of riding it in. Bishop's weight dragged even worse for being waterlogged, and now that she was climbing out of the water and the balance shifted. His bag rode more on her shoulders than directly behind her.

Their rescuers were all male, all bald, and all clad in similar oilskin coats with grey or khaki coveralls underneath. One man bore a slightly aristocratic air. "Is everyone out of the ship?" he called.

"Yes!" Hicks said. "There's just the three of us. Where are we?"

"This is Fury 161," the man said. "My name is Clemens; I'm the medical officer." Ripley reached the shore. The group of men all paused as if afraid to touch her. She struggled ashore with Hicks's help.

"Uh, I'm Corporate Dwayne Hicks, and this is my...wife and daughter. We're refugees from Acheron. Hadley's Hope. We need immediate emergency evac. Can you get a message to Weyland-Yutani?"

"Our Superintendant can. Let's get you all inside."

They passed through gates and heavy blast doors. As they walked inside, Ripley and Hicks exchanged a nervous look. The men indoors were rough, and the facility itself was filthy and almost rotten. 

"Is this a prison?" Hicks asked suddenly.

"Yes," Clemens confirmed. "There used to be 5,000 men here. We now have only 25." He led them into a central chamber, many levels tall, where the men all hung around the railings and stairs. They jeered and catcalled. "Ignore them," Clemens said, still addressing Hicks more than Ripley. "They haven't seen a woman in years."

Ripley rolled her eyes. "Great."

Clemens led them to the infirmary and got them dry clothes. "Ripley?" Newt asked as they dressed. "Are you and Hicks really married?"

"No," Ripley sighed. She understood what Hicks was trying to do. Ordinarily, she would be super pissed that he'd presumed such a stereotypical patriarchal role. "He was trying to protect us."

"From what?" Newt asked.

Ripley paused before answering. "Well, it's a little complicated. The point is that we don't need protecting, right?" Newt nodded. "Because we take care of ourselves." Another nod.

"But Ripley? I wouldn't mind so much, if you and Hicks got married. He's nice. And he lived, so that's good."

"Yeah, Baby," Ripley agreed, "he's very nice." And truthfully, while she was annoyed on principal, she wasn't half as upset as his overstep as she should have been. She knew damn well that he knew she was no damsel in distress.

Clemens cleared his throat as he poked his head around the curtain that he'd pulled for their privacy. "Warden wants to see all of you."

The warden was a man named Andrews. He was portly and soft, but just as squalid and shaven as his charges. They quickly learned that most of the prisoners followed a zealot by the name of Dillon, a dignified man of color who wore spectacles when he wanted to look impressive. "Dillon preaches a rather ridiculous blend of Christianity and delusion," Andrews explained, "but I tolerate it because it keeps the others in line. However, you'll want to avoid contact. These are hardened men, who cannot be trusted around temptation."

"Listen, we'll keep to ourselves," Hicks told the warden. "We don't want any trouble. We just need someone to pick us up."

"I've requested immediate retrieval," Andrews offered, "but it will be at least a week before anyone is in this sector. Meanwhile, however, we need to clarify something. Corporal Hicks, you are not married. According to the company records, you are the son of some very important people on dear old Earth."

"Can't believe everything you hear," Hicks said drily. "Ellen and I just got hitched on this last mission. The girl was the only survivor. We're looking after her."

"Survivor of what?"

"A xenomorph," Ripley cut in. She was tired of being ignored. "LV-426, or Acheron as the company calls it now, was overrun by a race of alien parasites. They gestate in the stomachs of living hosts. When they've reached the next stage of their development, they burst through the chest cavity and continue the cycle. We barely escaped. Now we just want to go home."

"Hold on a moment," Andrews said. "Do you mean to say you could have introduced this contagion here? I thought our lice were bad enough. You'll want to shave, by the bye, or you'll regret it, I assure you."

"Noted, but no, we're certain the ship was clean," Hicks said.

"I'm not," Ripley commented suddenly.

"You're...not?"

"No. I want to retrieve the flight recorder from the EEV, and use our synthetic crew member to check the logs. Something disrupted our cryo-sleep cycle. Something caused the hull breach. Something started the fire. I don't believe in coincidence."

"We can’t retrieve the flight recorder. It’s in the EEV, and the EEV is currently on the bottom of the ocean. It’s 40 below and the sun does not rise for seven days, by which time, if I am to believe you, we will all be dead. So, what you have is a fantastical story and convenient ways in which it cannot be verified.”

”Actually, sir....” Aaron, Andrews’ assistant administrator, ventured. “We were able to salvage the ship. Dragged it back using the oxen. It’s backed right up to the main cargo bay.”

”Be that as it may, I do not want you spreading panic with these claims. You need to be in quarantine, then, immediately," Andrews cried. "Clemens. See to it."

"We’ll go, as long as we can retrieve the flight recorder first," Ripley ordered. As they walked with Aaron and Clemens to the wreckage, she told them, “The cryotube has vital monitors and a full complement of diagnostics, CT, ultrasound. Scan us when we get there.”

The scans were disturbingly normal, and it made Ripley even more worried. Shortly after the scan, they returned to medical as promised. After cleaning up their other wounds, scratches and bruises from the crash, Clemens left them alone. 

"Sorry about the wife thing. Thought it might help them to underestimate you, in case we needed to fight."

"Oh, is that what that was?"

"Well...sure. I mean, I also got the vibe that these assholes don't respect a woman who can handle herself. But...uh." He swallowed nervously. "Okay, maybe I panicked a tiny bit."

Ripley smiled. "Maybe. Don't ever do that again, okay?"

" What, panic?" He grinned. "Understood, Lieutenant, sir. Just, for the record, I do not believe you need anyone's protection. Kinda like that about you, Ellen."

"Fine. It didn't work anyway, so let's just drop it."

"Yes, ma'am," Hicks acknowledged pleasantly. "So. What do you think is really going on?" he asked, sobering with the more important topic.

"I think there was another creature, and we missed it. I missed it. Dammit. The _Sulaco_ was enormous. Something could have come up on the drop-ship. I don't know how, but I think I was right before. It was sabotage, just not you doing it. I think it forced us to land somewhere so it could prey on whatever it found here."

"Agreed." Hicks touched the fresh dressing which Clemens had placed over his eye. "So. Here we go again?"

"Here we go again."

"Ripley?" Newt chirped. "Are we ever going to make it home?"

She closed her eyes. "Oh, Newt, I hope so, honey. We just have some things to do first." As she looked down at her, and thought about what it might take to keep her safe, she found herself thinking in a new way about Hicks' lie. Now that she'd called out his unnecessary protectiveness, her emotions took hold of the possibility and promise in how he had not hesitated to claim kinship with them both. If they did make it out of this, she was going to find out if he really saw a future for them, together, with Newt as their own child. Somehow, she didn't mind the idea. Maybe it even gave her more reason to hope they all got out of here alive.

She hooked up Bishop, and he confirmed that the queen had left an egg on board. It had hatched approximately two hours before the first explosion. It was unclear whether the alien had caused the blast, but given that all the prey on board was inaccessible, it was likely. The chances were extremely high that, even in its facehugger stage, it had somehow clung to the hull of the EEV during ejection, creating its opportunity to travel to the surface. All it needed was a way in to the facility inside a live being.

"Like go back and talk to that administrator," Hicks said. "We can't afford to sit around and wait for it to strike first."

"You go. I don't want to parade Newt through there again," Ripley said. 

"No. We stay together. I'm not leaving either of you alone."

Their options were laughably limited. The facility had no weapons, no transport, and no good way to contain the threat. But there was definitely a threat. By the time they made it back to the warden's office, Ripley could tell something was wrong. One of the prisoners was wailing about his dog being killed. Dillon was there, as well, consoling the mourner.

"It's happening," she muttered to Hicks. "It's here."

"Yeah."

"Listen, we'll all have to work together," Ripley said to Andrews, breaking in to their conversation. "They're afraid of fire. They like dark, dank places, and warmth."

"We...have a complication," Andrews told them. "I've received a message from the company."

"Let me guess," Ripley growled. "They want it captured alive."

He blinked at her in surprise. "Yes."

"The fucking company wants one of these things because they think they can weaponize it. They're wrong. They can't. This thing, all it does is kill, and make more. The creature that stowed away on our drop-ship, it was a queen. It can make thousands more. We can't let it lay eggs, we can't let it infect anyone."

"I don't think you understand. I can't countermand the company."

"I don't think _you_ understand, asshole--" Ripley fired back.

"Look, Mr. Andrews. We have personal experience with these bugs. They make cockroaches look cute. Okay? Now, is there anywhere we can set a trap for it?"

"We can lure it through the refinery," Dillon suggested. 

"Okay. Andrews. Do yourself and everyone here a favor. Send a message to the company telling them you've captured the creature. I'll lay odd they'll expedite their retrieval mission. We might survive long enough for them to get here. Then we commandeer the ship and pilot it the hell away from here with whoever's left."

"Whoever's left?" Dillon asked sharply.

"You don't think we're all going to get through this, do you?" Ripley asked mockingly. 

"What Ripley means," Hicks put in more mildly, "is that without real weapons, this is going to be extremely dangerous."

"So send the message now, Andrews."

"Lie? To the company?"

"Yes."

"Do you want off of this rock?" Ripley quipped. "Then lie to them. It's okay. By the time they get here, the xenomorph will be dead...or we will."

"When you say a creature like this destroyed the colony--"

"LV-426, yes." Ripley gave Andrews an extremely brief version of the story of both the _Nostromo_ and Hadley's Hope. She pulled Newt into her lap for the scarier parts, stroking her hair to calm both the girl and herself, and stay focused. "So you see, Weyland-Yutani are making a devil's bargain. They can't possibly control this being, and they sure as fuck can't make it work for them."

"If we had time, I'd advise you to read Bishop's complete logs," Hicks offered. "But Ripley's right. There is no time to waste. Every second we spend here, that creature is infiltrating your facility."

"Let's say I believe you," Andrews said. "How would we destroy it?"

"The foundry," Dillon said. "Lure it through the refinery, into the leadworks. Boil the fucker."

"Possibly," Ripley allowed. "If we fail, would it be contained?"

"We can seal off the factory from the rest of the quarters," Dillon promised.

* * *

FURY 161 - CLASS C - PRISON UNIT 12037154 -  
REPORT DEATH OF SUPT.  
ANDREWS, ASST. SUPT. AARON, TWENTY-ONE PRISONERS.  
WEYLAND-YUTANI TRANSPORT ARRIVED  
ALL REMAINING PERSONNEL EVACUATING EMERGENTLY  
MEDICAL OFFICER CLEMENS, SIGNING OFF.

It went about as well as could be expected. The alien was different from the drones on the _Nostromo_ and Acheron, quadrupedal, but almost as intelligent as the queen. Ripley and Hicks left Newt in Clemens’ care while the others all played their roles to trap and exterminate the bug. But in the end, Hicks, Ripley, Newt, Clemens, and just one inmate, Morse, were the only survivors. Ripley had been right: The company sent a ship immediately. Less than a day later, it was in orbit. 

They were ready. As soon as the company scientists lowered their gangplank, Hicks leapt at them. He and Morse took down three of the company personnel with the axes and butcher’s knives, some of the few weapons they had available. Ripley, Clemens, and Newt rushed into the ship. Ripley held the pilot at knife-point.

"We're on!" Hicks called to her.

"Take off. _Now_. Or I will," Ripley told the pilot.

"You can't--" Ripley nicked the woman's throat. The pilot keyed in the takeoff sequence.

"What are you going to do?" One the men asked. He was dressed in a trench coat and dark glasses, rather than the white sterile scrubs the others had worn. She ripped off his glasses. 

"Bishop," she breathed in shock.

"You know who I am?" he asked.

"You're a goddamn droid. Same model as Bishop. Sent by the fucking company."

"I'm not the Bishop android. I designed it. I'm the prototype. I'm very human. I was sent here to show you a friendly face and to demonstrate how important you are to us. To me. So, again, Ripley: what are you going to do?"

Ripley didn't hesitate. She stabbed him in the heart. As he lay on the deck, bleeding at her feet, she glanced down the drop-ship's gantry, where Hicks was crab-walking up to join them even as it closed. She smiled, and looked directly at him, rather than at Bishop's creator, as she said, "We're going to take off, and nuke this entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure."

**Author's Note:**

> Dear anr, I really, really hope you enjoyed this! I am sorry to post such a rushed ending, but I was totally pressed for time while writing this. I may yet expand the final sections, though part of me just couldn't face writing a complicated bug hunt when...well, we've got the film's version. I want to thank you for requesting this, because without your prompt, I never would have actually written the Hicks/Ripley that we all want and need. The only downside is she doesn't get to screw Charles Dance, but...well, we can't have everything!
> 
> For reference, I did use some of the details from the 2003 recut, but left the alien’s path to the facility vague on purpose.


End file.
